Where's Camille indeed. I know where she is. No direct knowledge but my foxy instincts tell me all I need to know. While other people hang around this clip joint waiting for me or Godot, Camille is up there at the keyboard, eyes glittering with happiness, gorgeous hair unbrushed, coffee growing cold in the cup, chiselling out the truth from her unconscious & making it perfect. Just like I told her to do. Scottie B.